


The Lady in the Tower

by sunkelles



Series: Femslash February 2015 [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe- Fairy tale, Dany is a shape-shifter, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Femslash February Trope Bingo, Kinda Crack, Sansa is basically Rapunzel, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 13:24:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3291878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkelles/pseuds/sunkelles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sansa is a beautiful maiden locked in a tower and Daenerys is the dragon that eventually whisks her away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lady in the Tower

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Femslash February!!!!! 
> 
> So this is a fill for the Bingo Square "Fairy Tale" and also a super cracky au that I hope someone enjoys.

Sansa stares out her tower window. The view is stunning, as always. She can see the snowcapped peaks of the Flints in the distance. The snow covering the trees of the Godswood seems to be melting as spring approaches. The view is stunning, but it is much the same as it has always been. Sansa has never known anything beyond the tower, and by now, she and boredom have become bedfellows.

Her parents and siblings visit occasionally, but they never stay long. Winterfell is far away from her tower, and her family has a kingdom to run. Her father told her once, long ago, that she was placed in the tower so she wouldn’t be stolen away like her aunt was, but Sansa can’t help feeling bitter. She suspects that any person would be bitter if their entire world were a window and a small tower room. It drove her Septa so mad that she threw herself out the window and landed in a bloody, ungraceful heap.

She sighs an exaggerated sigh as she gathers her materials for  _embroidery_. She is sewing a white direwolf onto a field of grey, like her family’s coat of arms. She is sure that it will look lovely when she is done.

Sansa sees something zoom in through the window, and a moment later, she hears a clashing noise as that same something collides with her wardrobe. Sansa sets down her embroidery carefully, and walks tentatively towards the thing that collided into her tower. Whatever it is, it is covered in glimmering, silvery scales. A tail curves out and its wings spread widely against her wardrobe.

“A dragon,” she finds herself saying in astonishment, “it’s a dragon.” There’s a part of her that has never been more excited in her life. A dragon means adventure, anything to disrupt her monotonous routine. But another part of her whispers that this is a terrible thing. A dragon stole away her aunt Lyanna, and dragons ruled the kingdom with fire and blood until her father and the king overthrew them. But Sansa finds the part of her that is excited is winning out over the part that is alarmed. There is something on one of the dragon’s wings, a deep red liquid, and Sansa realizes that it is blood. The dragon has harmed itself.

Sansa finds herself searching for salve, for a bandage, for anything to help treat the dragon’s wounds. She grabs the salve and her bandages and turns around to face the dragon once more. The dragon’s form starts to melt away into that of a pale-skinned, pale-haired woman. Her head is lying against the deep brown wood of Sansa’s wardrobe, and her arm is still bleeding. Sansa snaps herself out of her trance and sets to work dressing the wound.

She finishes quickly enough, but the woman starts to shift under her touch. Sansa almost draws back, but the woman’s eyes flitter open before she has a chance. Her eyes meet the other woman’s lilac ones. She lurches back, and ends up ramming her head into the wardrobe.

“Ouch,” she shouts, trying to cradle her head with her hand. Sansa rushes forward.

“I’m so sorry,” she says quickly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” She doesn’t know how to make the situation better, but she feels better with an apology out in the open air. The woman runs her hand over her head with a groan.

“What ‘appened,” the woman half drawls.

“You flew into my tower,” Sansa says, “and you hit your head against the wardrobe.” The woman tries to stand, but sort of sways and flounders as she does. She rubs her hand against her head in what seems to be a mixture of pain and frustration. The woman groans as she rubs her palm against her forehead.

“Who are you?” the woman asks her.

Sansa quirks her eyebrows, and almost gives a sarcastic retort, but decides that wouldn’t be the way to start out on the right foot.

“Sansa Stark,” she says, “and you?”  
“Daenerys,” she says distantly. The girl looks frantically around the room, and seems to be struck by a sudden realization.

“I can’t shift,” Daenerys says, panic tinting her words.

“What do you mean?” Sansa asks, though she has a suspicion.

“I can’t shift forms,” she clarifies, “at least until my arm heals.”

“So you’re stuck here,” Sansa says. She is not displeased by this idea, and she feels a bit bad about that.

“Yes,” the woman says, and she slumps against the wardrobe.

“Well,” Sansa says, and the other woman looks far away from Sansa, far out the window, and Sansa does not bother to try to speak to her again.

* * *

 

 

It’s nearly an hour of strained, angry silence before Sansa decides to do something about it.

“If you’re going to be stuck here,” Sansa says with a flourish, like a queen making a proclamation, “we might as well relieve some of our boredom.”

She opens up a story books, full of tales of knights and princesses and daring quests, and she starts to read aloud. After a few stories, Daenerys plops down closer to her and demands more, and Sansa almost smiles. Maybe having company won’t be a completely bad thing.

* * *

 

 

She finishes the story of a knight and his maiden fair as the sun begins to set in the sky.

“Would you like to hear another, Daenerys?” Sansa asks, the high Valyarian name feeling strange on her tongue.

“Yes,” the other woman admits as she lounges back into the pillows, “But do call me Dany. My name is incredibly long.”

“Of course, Dany,” Sansa says with a smile to her tone. She gets off her bed, grabs one of her favorite books off the shelf, and starts to read. She hopes that Dany enjoys  _Florian and Jonquil_.

Sansa drops the book after she finishes it, and she smiles at her companion.

“I’m sorry that you’re stuck here,” she says, the words feeling strange on her lips, the way most words do, “but I’m glad that you’re here.”

Dany frowns, but then understanding passes over her.  
“It’s alright,” she says, and then she pauses, “You’ve been alone all your life.” 

“I suppose we have something in common, then,” she says softly, “I have too. It’s hard to get close to anyone when people hunt you to the ends of the earth,” They come to an understanding of sorts, afterwards. Sansa’s never bonded with someone before, so she supposes that bonding with someone over being alone is a huge improvement. They return to their companionable silence as Sansa tries to get a few things done around her tower and Dany drifts silently to sleep.

* * *

 

 

 

Sansa grabs a book, the way that she has the entire week that Dany has been here, and plops down on her bed. Dany’s wound is healing, but it’s still not well enough for her to shift forms. Sansa feels bad about being glad of that.

“Tell me about how you ended up in this tower,” Dany demands lightly.

Sansa has never told the story before, never had anyone to tell it to, but she wants to. Her tale might end up dying here in her desolate, lonely, tower otherwise.

“A long time ago,” she says, trying to make her voice take on the same quality as when she was reading the story books, “there was a young girl. She lived in a lovely castle with her family, and was betrothed to a great lord. But the son of the dragon king stole her away, and she ended up dying. Her brother and betrothed fought a war to save her, and kicked the dragon kings off the throne, but she died anyway.”

The dragon woman raises an eyebrow at her.

“That’s why they locked me away,” She says, “to protect me from, well, from dragons.” She’s a bit embarrassed at having to say that part in front of Dany, but she doesn’t feel like lying. It’s not like she could when she’s told the whole rest of the story. 

Dany’s hand ghosts over her thigh, and Sansa feels something she’s never felt before. Some sort of strange desire, but she tries to shut it down as she gets back to telling her life story.

Dany looks to her, and there’s something primal burning in her eyes.

“They didn’t do a very good job of protecting you from dragons,” she says in a low, sensual tone, and Sansa seizes her lips in a kiss.

* * *

 

 

“I don’t want you to leave,” Sansa murmurs, as Dany runs her fingers through Sansa’s soft, auburn hair.

“It’s funny,” Dany tells her, “I’ve never felt compelled to stay somewhere before.” A lonely, cramped tower is no place for a dragon.

“But if I got stuck here with you,” she says, “I’m not sure that I’d mind.” Sansa feels something inside her, a feeling stronger than anything she’s ever felt, and she grasps Dany’s hand tightly. She knows that she doesn’t want to lose her, no matter how inevitable it is that she will.

* * *

 

 

Sansa wakes to the sun on her skin and Dany’s arm wrapped around her waist. It’s wonderful, to be able to kiss someone, to talk to someone, even to just talk to someone after so long spent alone. Dany awakens quickly beside her. Dany’s wound is almost healed, and Sansa feels something dreadful in her belly.

* * *

 

 

 

“I’m itching to stretch my wings again,” Dany says with a sigh, “I think I’ll go crazy, coped up in here.”

“You think that it’s bad to be cooped up in here for a few days?” Sansa demands, “try being locked in here for a lifetime.”

“I’m sorry, Sansa,” She says, gazing longingly out the window in a way that only a caged bird can manage, “I can’t give you back your lost years, but I can take you with me.” Sansa’s breath hitches in her throat, and she’s almost certain that she’s heard the other girl wrong.

Sansa almost smiles at her

“Come with me,” Dany begs her.

There’s an enormous world outside her window. There’s the Godwood and the Flints and Winterfell to the North, and places she’s seen only in Dany’s stories. Traveling the kingdoms with Daenerys seems preferable to waiting around in her tower for her father’s promised prince. Doing much of anything with Dany seems preferable to doing anything without her. Sansa’s lips quirk up, and she can see Dany’s do the same.

“Yes,” she says, though it almost seems perfunctory at this point. It’s not as if she’d have said no. Dany shifts beside her, into a large, silver-scaled dragon, and Sansa runs her fingers over her back. 

 

As Sansa is about to run away with her dragon of her own accord, and she finds herself wondering if her aunt had as well.


End file.
